


Sail for the dawn till the darkness has gone

by lego_ergo_sum



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Queerplatonic Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde, Spoilers for Episode: e179 Eat Drink and Be Merry (Rusty Quill Gaming), Temporary Character Death, other chars mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29927646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lego_ergo_sum/pseuds/lego_ergo_sum
Summary: Zolf knows grief. He also knows hope. This though? This is new to him.A look at Zolf's relationship with grief, and how he felt during e174 and following.
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	Sail for the dawn till the darkness has gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aisydays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisydays/gifts).



> Happy birthday mate!! You are a wonderful friend and I have been wanting to send you this fic for ages, so i hope you enjoy it!!!
> 
> This is the first fic I've ever written thats broken 2k words,,, i have many emotions about Zolf Smith
> 
> Title is from 'Bones in the Ocean' by the Longest Johns, aka the perfect Zolf Smith song

Zolf knows grief. He has known it since he was 10 and one of the tunnels in the mine had collapsed. Still remembers the smiles of Losut and Elketh; Feryn’s friends really, but they'd been as close as older siblings to him. He remembers even more vividly the grief-filled shout his brother had released when he'd been told.

He is deeply familiar with the pain of losing loved ones by his own hand. That particular grief has been his constant companion for the last 3 decades.

He even knows the pain of losing an entire crew in one horrifying second, and the different, but still devastating, feeling of losing a vessel that has become a home.

Zolf knows grief, better than most ever will or ever should. So when the Vengeance crashes into the ground hard and he sees the bodies of his crew, his friends, his responsibilities, go flying, he knows what comes next.

Zolf knows grief, so when the first body he reaches- his oldest friend, his companion, his partner, the man he has somehow come to love - is already gone, long past saving even for a cleric, Zolf recognises the sharp pain that courses through his body and stifles his throat. But he buries it, moves on. There are still people who might be saved, still a crew he is first mate of, friends who may be relying on him, and he will not let this break him.

So he buries that feeling, and moves on to the next body. 

Zolf knows hope too. Of course he does, how could he not? He has managed to turn hope into a force powerful enough to give him the magic of one blessed by the gods. And he knows how that feels. 

Zolf knows hope intimately, knows how it can drive a sailor, all his crew lost, to believe that he might make it out alive. Knows the inherent guilt that comes with such a hope; how come he is allowed to live when so many more aren’t?

Zolf has held onto his hope for a year and a half now, trying to save a world so wracked by pain and suffering that there is barely anything left to cling to. He has fought to cling to that hope even as the fog in his mind sought to take it from him. 

Zolf knows how cruel hope can be. Truly there was a reason why Elpis was among the box of horrors. Hope can sustain a man, sure, but when that hope is broken it’s all the more painful. 

Zolf understands hope more than most, but he’s never felt this, this disquieting mixture of grief and hope. Of knowing someone is gone and yet hoping, desperately, that there might still be a way to save them. This feeling is new, and all the more painful for it. 

When the eagle first arrives, the frustration, the anger, the fear, barely cut through the pain he is already feeling, the cry of ‘What more can they throw at us?’ barely an echo of emotion against the hard wall he has already built against his grief. His annoyance that no one will explain what’s going on is barely even a glimmer.

When his friends pass on the message of hope, the barrier does not come down. But there is a crack. Even so, Zolf will not let himself hope yet. There is still too much to lose. 

Zolf buries the hope deeper than the grief. Grief he can handle. But this hope, this hope will break him utterly if false. So he buries it, remains gruff, and refuses to let himself hope. Not yet. 

Not until he is laying out the bodies, and goes to cast the spell that will preserve them long enough to be saved, and finds he has buried his hope so deep he cannot cast. He reaches inside himself for a sliver, begging not to be overcome, but unwilling to jeopardise what little chance they have. 

Zolf manages to hold it together until he is alone with Earhart. He had hoped to be on his own completely, but he admits he should have guessed she'd want to stay with the ship. 

When Amelia won’t be quiet, he cannot stop himself from letting something out. His grief and fear fall out as anger, easier to control, to shove back down, less vulnerable. She eventually suggests they both stay quiet and he is relieved. 

He sits quietly, breathes deeply, and tries not to remember the warmth of Oscar’s smile, nor the way his body lay broken on the ground, tries not to imagine Wilde’s laughter as he watched the party, lest he hope too hard and find himself falling into the well of grief that looms so closely.

He tries not to worry for his friends on that lonely, bumpy ride. Barnes had grown so close to Carter, and Hamid had never been the strongest. He’d seen Cel’s guilt, and didn’t want this to overwhelm them. Azu would be strong whilst they needed her, but he wasn’t sure how she’d deal with her own grief.

He is glad of these fleeting moments to himself. If this goes wrong, the others will need him. But he isn’t sure how he will cope with losing Wilde. It’s a terrifying thought, and these precious moments grant him the space to compose himself. The ride is hardly ideal for quiet contemplation, it isn’t the peace and quiet he would like, but he suspects it is the closest he will get for a while longer.

By the time they dock, on the back of a giant bear no less - and he is sure he will have a reaction to That later - he has had enough time to collect his thoughts, and prepare for what is to come. When he meets back with the others, he cannot muster a smile, but he nods reassuringly. He’ll be ok, he has to be.

When Sohra asks for guides, Zolf claims Wilde in a heartbeat. There is not a moment of hesitation. Not only does he have the strongest relationship with him, but, if he is truly honest with himself, he is not sure he could forgive anyone for failing to bring him back. 

As the others discuss, he tries desperately to clear his mind. It has to be Wilde’s choice. He cannot let himself hope that Oscar will want to return to him. Wilde deserves to rest, even if it breaks Zolf.

Hamid offers him a hug but he cannot bring himself to accept. He knows that if he lets his friend hold him, he will be unable to keep holding back his tears, and Wilde needs him steady. 

The group goes inside the doors, and he kneels at Wilde’s head, averting his eyes from where he knows the gaping wound to be, even if it is now covered. Wilde is so unnaturally still. Even at his most downcast and sedate, the man had never truly been still, always tapping out some rhythm or another. Zolf stops himself before he falls into despair,

He focuses on the scents, the feeling of Wilde’s hair beneath his hand, and as the ritual continues, feels himself drift away. He finds he trusts this strange pull, it won’t steer him wrong, and indeed he finds Wilde easily. The man seems healthy, happy, and with that wide grin he has missed more than he cares to admit. 

At first it seems that Wilde understands, and Zolf knows he can’t deny the man a break if he wants it, gods know he deserves it, and Zolf longs to just sit and relax with him. Then Wilde seems to forget, seems to think they’re at uni somehow, and Zolf is terrified he is losing him. Wilde has a way out of every question, but they don’t make any sense, and Zolf can feel the small sliver of hope that is sustaining him begin to fade. 

So he puts it as bluntly as he can. Zolf Smith has never been known for his delicate touch, and that at least has not changed. Wilde looks like he understands, but when he seems to think Zolf is only here so they can continue their work, his heart breaks. He can’t ask Wilde to return, not to that, not back to endless days of paperwork and cold, friendless nights. Not when he finally has a chance to rest. 

Wilde appears to want a reason though, and Zolf finds himself blurting out that he needs him. Of course he needs him, Oscar has somehow become the most important person in his life. 

At first he fears that it wasn’t enough, that Zolf isn’t enough, but when he realises Wilde is just messing with him, the sharp wave of relief that sinks into his bones overwhelms the momentary anger. Just this once there might be a happy ending. Zolf promises Wilde a holiday, they’ve more than earnt it, and as Zolf leads them both back, he finally lets himself imagine a future with Wilde in it again.

As Zolf wakes, and sees Wilde take in that first gasp, he truly feels the realisation. Wilde is alive. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t know why this is the one person he gets to have back but there he is: alive and breathing, this nightmare is over, and Zolf can relax. 

His attention is quickly broken by the realisation that Meerk has not returned, and what follows is messy and ill thought out. Comforting someone through grief when you have been given a second chance is a difficult line to tread, and Zolf is not a tactful dwarf at the best of times. He may know grief well, but it is still unique, and he ends up leaving Skraak to the care of those who know him better. 

Still, he maintains the vigil with them, watching into the night as the kobolds give Meerk the farewell he deserved. They had not been close, they barely shared a language and their understandings of the ship did not overlap, but he’d been a member of Zolf’s crew, and he’d come to deeply respect all of the kobolds. 

He tries to focus, he knows how important last rites are, but, despite his best efforts, his mind is always on the calm form lying on a bed across the square. When Skraak eventually turns and indicates that the formal part of the send off is complete, Zolf is one of the first to leave. He knows the others will be alright, Azu will take care of Hamid, the crew has an Earhart who finally seems to care for her people again, and the kobolds will look after each other. He doesn’t need to be strong any longer, isn’t sure he could anyway, and lets himself rush to Wilde’s side.

He can’t quite convince himself that it was real until he watches Wilde’s chest rise and fall. There is a bed prepared for him, but he knows he will not sleep. Their hosts seem to understand completely, and bring him a chair he can pull close to Wilde’s bedside. 

Zolf pulls out a book, a Campbell of course, an old favourite he has read over and over, one that has brought him comfort through many a long sleepless night, but this time he can’t focus. He keeps realising he has not processed any of the words, and his thoughts are interrupted every 5 minutes with the fear that Wilde is gone. By the time dawn breaks, Zolf has made it maybe 3 pages into the book, his mind will not relax. 

The night continues, agonisingly slowly, longer than any night shift he has ever pulled, longer than the eternity within the aurora, but every time he looks up, Wilde is still there, and every time he feels himself believe, just a little more, that this is real. 

Finally, Wilde’s eyes open and he smiles at Zolf.

Zolf feels the wall of grief he had built crash to the ground as he is overwhelmed by the hope that he has been denying himself all this time. Wilde is awake, he is here and alive, and Zolf has not been left alone, again. Zolf brings them both outside, glad of some private time to work out what this means for their relationship. 

The day that follows is the most restful Zolf has had in months. His crew need it, and so does he. He cannot manage diplomacy on 30 hours without sleep, and he knows that miracles or not, the crew is still recovering from the grief of seeing their friends laid out in the snow.

He knows that soon they will once again be headed into danger, that any day might be the last day he gets to spend with Wilde, knows that even if somehow they both survive this quest, his lifespan will far exceed Wilde’s own. But for today he can forget mortality, and rejoice in the feeling of Wilde by his side. 

When Zolf lies down that night, next to Wilde, whom he has not had to leave all day, he knows that when his eyes close he will see his cold, broken body lying in the snow. He’s done this before, knows his dreams will be filled with the image for days to come, and knows he will never quite be able to forget it. 

But this time, when he wakes with a start, his friend is by his side, and when he lies down again, Wilde’s calm, steady breaths will lull him to sleep, reassuring him that this time, his hope has not betrayed him.


End file.
